Ultimately
by emmajeannie
Summary: Draco/Hermione Angsty romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Boys, Hermione decided, caused only stress and pain to a person's life, and what's more, it was usually the ones she cared for most strongly who ended up hurting her most deeply. She was stupid, she knew, for allowing the men in her life to affect her to this extent, but recent situations had nearly brought her glittering reputation amongst her professors crashing down around her. After years of hard work, studying and late night revision sessions, she found herself unable to think, write or even relax without everything swirling around in her head; without his face being there every minute of every day, as though it were a brand upon her eyelids.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid girl_, Hermione muttered, for allowing herself, usually so in control of everything, to lose her grip on everything including, most frighteningly of all, her own emotions.  
>On the bright side however, all of this only confirmed what she had suspected all her life; that love was not suited to Hermione Granger.<p>

But did she even love him? How could she be sure either way? She had never been in love, nor had any interest in finding it. Hell, she had been grateful for the mere friendship of Harry and Ron, although she was rapidly re-evaluating even this. Sure, she didn't know all that much about the rules of being friends with another person, but surely they included supporting her no matter what, and if this wasn't a 'no matter what' situation, she didn't know what was. Yes, having thought about it, she was now surer than ever that this wasn't down to her own stupidity alone; it was Harry and Ron's fault too; for not accepting her choices and her feelings as valid, based purely on their own stubbornness, their own unwillingness to give anyone a second chance.  
>"Granger!" The sound of her name startled her, propelling her back from her inner monologue, back into the real world of other people. But it wasn't the sudden start she had had which set the butterflies in her stomach into over-drive, although she wished it was as simple as that. No, it was the voice which had called her; his voice. She felt her whole body go rigid, from her fingertips, her shoulders, her chest, right down to the tips of her toes. She had to stay focused, keep a hold of herself. She wanted to run away, back to her bed and hide there, but to do that would be to openly confirm the existence of the tension which was growing between them. So instead, she slowly wheeled around to face him, all the while sucking in a huge, bracing breath of cold air, steeling herself in order that she could speak.<br>"Draco…" she said, although even to her own ears her voice sounded strained and not quite natural.  
>"Yeah, hi…erm…" Draco replied; he sounded just as nervous as she felt, and she wasn't sure whether this was a relief or whether it made things worse. "I've been thinking, I think we need to, you know, talk sometime. Talk about-"<br>"I'm late Draco, I… I have somewhere I need to be, I'm sorry." Hermione said, so rapidly that many of the words crashed into each other, and as she practically ran away, she wondered if she had even been coherent. She should turn back, she thought. She didn't actually have anywhere to be, and he was right, they _did_ need to talk. But it was too late, she thought as she walked away, imagining him stood there as she left him alone in the hallway, still mid-sentence_. I'm sorry_, she thought. _But it's just too hard._

Draco stood there, still reeling from Hermione's latest lame excuses to avoid talking to him. Ever since that evening in the room of requirement, she had not even made eye contact with him without him practically holding her head up with his own hands; and oh, what he would give to be able to touch her, or just to stand as close as they had done that night, in that hazy place in between friends and lovers.  
>They had been so close that he could feel her breath on his face, prickling warmly over his skin and caressing even his hair. He had wanted to so much in that moment to reach out and grab her hand in his. To touch her face, her lips; to wrap his arms around her slender waist and never let go.<br>_You're crazy, Malfoy_, he thought to himself. _That's one witch who's a lot more trouble than she's worth_. He knew all this, had rationalised all these thoughts in his head so many times, and yet she was still there. He couldn't explain these feelings, not even to himself. It was a kind of pull he felt towards her, like if he couldn't see her every day he might struggle to function. He would try to erase her from his daily life by clinging to tedious tasks such as actually doing his homework for once and even spending more time with Pansy. But as much as he liked Pansy's unconditional adoration of him, she paled in comparison. He would notice her move slightly closer to him in class, and he would find himself unconsciously stiffen and lean slightly in the other direction. He knew it was cruel of him, to call her every evening when he failed to summon the courage to go to the Gryffindor common room, or when his visit to the library in the hope of bumping into Hermione there had been unsuccessful. It was cruel and he knew it, but his desperation for Hermione meant he had to be selfish in order to keep himself together.

He snapped out of this nostalgia almost as suddenly as Hermione had made her escape minutes earlier, and he found that being back in the real world made him angry. He swung his school bag up and over his shoulder and strode quickly down the corridor, making a point of bumping shoulders with those who were foolish enough to stare at him as he stood there, alone and rejected.

He arrived back from his class with McGonagall that evening and threw his bag up on the desk in the corner of his room. The breeze that this action created caused a small square of paper to flutter from the desk onto the rug below. His heart leapt up into his throat as he read the words 'Meet me later' written on it in a hand which clearly belonged to a woman. However as he read the name at the bottom of which woman had left it, his heart did a U-turn and plummeted to the very bottom of his stomach; Pansy. He should have known it from the first minute he had read it; he had been foolish to think he could win over Hermione with his stupid stuttering and ramblings which was all he ever did when he actually did get face-to-face with her. He blushed at the very thought of those previous meetings, the awkward meetings, him trying to stay cool, all the while he was screaming in his mind for her to stay, to listen, and for her to tell him that it was okay, that she felt the same, that they would be together at last. '_You're crazy, Malfoy'_ he thought again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

He couldn't take advantage of her any longer he decided. He could not keep fleeing Hermione's cold shoulder for Pansy's safe warmth, especially not when he could see, if he was honest with himself, the look in Pansy's eyes when he knocked on her door. He was all too aware of the significance of that look, the one which bore into him, and filled him with regret and guilt. He was aware because it was the way he looked at Hermione whenever they shared a class or whenever he saw her in the hallway and, if he wasn't mistaken, it was the same way Hermione looked back at him, when she thought he wasn't looking.  
>Yes, he would stay away from her for a while, put a bit more distance between them so that, hopefully, she would get the message that he did not wish to be any more than her friend.<p>

Having made this promise to himself, he couldn't have been more frustrated at leaving the bedroom and being confronted by Pansy sat in the armchair of the common room, on her own with a book. He fought back the sigh which he could feel bubbling in his throat.  
>"Draco! Hi!" she said, putting her book down way too fast and standing up even faster. "I hoped you'd be around, I was hoping we could do something, go out for dinner or something?"<br>What to do? She had caught him totally off-guard, without a response or an excuse to get out of going with her. Such was his confusion in the moment that he found himself uttering the words 'Okay, sure', before he even had time to think about everything he had promised himself.  
>"Great! Just wait here while I go and grab my bag" she beamed as she turned and ran out the door towards the girls' dormitories.<br>Once she had left, Draco sat down on the armchair she had just vacated, put his head in his hands and thought '_you idiot, Draco.'_

She needed to stop running away from him, thought Hermione. There was a reason Monday night had happened and she knew it, but that didn't make it any easier to accept; it didn't make the situation she now found herself in any easier to resolve. To her relief, Harry had invited her to go with him and Ron to Hogsmeade for some Christmas shopping that evening, which meant that it would be easier for her to try and block out all her thoughts of Malfoy which otherwise plagued her every day.  
>She stepped outside into the courtyard, pulling her thick cardigan around her shoulders, her purse slipping from its pocket onto the ground as she did so. As she stood back up having retrieved it, she caught sight of two silhouettes walking shoulder to shoulder across the grass in the middle of the square. She knew even before they had reached the glow of the lamplight exactly who they were. She knew the pale blond of his hair, knew the way it fell around his eyes. As they moved into the area which was illuminated, her eyes confirmed what her brain had already figured out; Draco Malfoy was on a date with Pansy Parkinson. She should be happy; he would leave her alone now. There would be no more ambushes in the corridors, no more awkward glances in class, no more episodes in which he stood there struggling to find the words to say, while she grasped around in her head for an excuse to bury her head in the sand. She should be happy; instead, she felt as though someone had hold of her throat with strong hands, whilst a vice pressed heavily on either side of her chest. Do not cry she told herself. It will not help anything to cry.<br>She knew she should look away, to continue walking, but somehow she could not tear her eyes away from watching him, and she was still watching him as he looked up and saw her.  
>His eyes connected with hers and then everything felt as though it were in slow motion; everything around them fell away until it was only the two of them, holding each other's gaze; both of them knowing they should not care, but neither of them able to break this eye contact. Hermione's mouth unconsciously fell open slightly and, but for the lack of tears, her face gave every impression that she was in pain.<br>Then, to her anger, she felt herself let go of the purse she was still holding, forcing her to bend down to pick it back up again, her face burning scarlet hot with the embarrassment she felt at this display of emotions. She went to stand up and, in the same swift motion, continue walking the way she had been before he had appeared. However, her hurried feet and racing mind caused her to lose her footing, and she tripped, falling forwards for what seemed to her like forever. She squeezed her eyes closed; bracing herself for the impact of hitting the ground, which she finally did; her head colliding with the corner of the concrete wall which surrounded the flowerbeds.  
>The next hours were a blur, transitioning between the seemingly endless blackness and the painful moments of consciousness. The first of the few memories she had were the moments almost immediately following the fall; through the blurred vision caused by the impact, she could make out Draco's face, so close to hers. Though she couldn't be certain, she thought she could see a look of absolute worry, almost to the point of pain, etched on his face. Despite her body feeling numb and cold, she could feel a circle of warmth radiating on her cheek where Draco's hand was stroking it with the gentlest of touches. She could see his mouth moving, knew he was speaking to her, but her brain would not let her hear, although she wanted so desperately to hear his voice. Then, she sunk back into the darkness again and, for a length of time she could not discern, she lay in the pitch black, only registering certain sounds, muted voices and the occasional touch of someone's hand.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_What had he done? _  
>Draco felt sure that his heart was being compressed by his own lungs because he couldn't breathe, and his heart felt as though it were straining against the confines of his ribcage. It seemed that it took him a whole lifetime to reach her as she fell, is arms already outstretched, his fingers aching to hold her, to pull her up and save her. But he was too slow. Her head smacked the concrete with an unnatural crack, a sound so terrifying that all he could think was '<em>No, she can't die; she can't leave me'<em>.  
>He fell to his knees next to her now motionless body and he slowly rolled her over. Her face, her beautiful face, was covered in mud all down the left side due to the way she had landed. Not able to cope seeing her beauty blemished in this way he gently rubbed the mud from her face with the side of his hand, as Pansy ran to find a professor.<br>Draco saw that her eyes had flickered open slightly and she was peering at him from under heavy lids. In the madness of the moment, not helped by his sheer joy at this closeness even under these circumstances, he said something he knew he shouldn't have said. Things which he later couldn't decide whether he regretted, or whether he was relieved that he had finally said them.  
><em>"I'm here Hermione. I'm not going to leave you; not ever. I want you to know that I'm yours; I'm yours body and soul".<em>

Her eyes fell shut again after only a few seconds. He sat there on the frost-bitten ground next to her, with her hand in his, for what seemed to him like forever. He watched the blood pool around the cut on her forehead and realised that he couldn't wait for Pansy to come back now, where ever she had gone to. He had to do something.  
>He scooped her up in his arms, held her head close to his chest, supporting it as one would when holding a child. He could feel her breath, although weaker than usual, warmly dancing over the fine hairs of his chest. He strode as fast as he could without jolting her injured head too much; down the path he had just walked with Pansy, up the sweeping staircases inside the castle. People were noticeably staring at them; and really, he couldn't blame them. After all, it wasn't every day they saw Granger and him together, let alone see him carrying her about like this, blood falling gently down the side of her face.<br>When he finally reached Madame Pomfrey's wing, he lay her down on an empty bed, of which there were many; in fact, aside from Hermione, Pomfrey and himself, there was only a boy sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door holding an ice pack to his eye. Pomfrey ran over and began working on Hermione as Draco slid down into a chair, putting his head heavily into his hands.  
>He was bad for her and he knew it. This time he would stick by his promises he made to himself. He had to leave Hermione alone, for her own sake.<p>

Hermione's eyes first opened properly at around half past one in the afternoon the day after she had fallen. She cringed as the memory of what had happened the night before came back to her suddenly, an unpleasant epiphany. Even though she could not remember a great deal of what had occurred last night, and barely any memories of after the fall had survived through to the morning. But somehow, based on next to nothing, she knew that he had been kind; that he had been gentle; that he had been _loving_. He had run to her as she fell, that much she could tell from the desperate slapping of his shoes against the cold concrete, and the swiftness with which he had his arms around her as she lay. In the tenderness of his touch on her face she could feel how much he cared for her, and it made her heart swim.  
>But he was still a Malfoy. He was still the same boy who had teased her mercilessly in the past on account of her being muggle-born. He was still the son of a death eater. He was still the boy her two closest friends hated.<br>Just then Ron and Harry came running in through the doors of the hospital wing, Harry holding a handful of only slightly wilting wildflowers, presumably from the field surrounding the castle.  
>"What happened, Hermione? Are you alright?" asked Ron, as he sat down in the chair next to the bed.<br>"I'm fine, Ron. It's just a knock to the head, that's all. I must have slipped on the icy floor when I came to meet you last night. Just a clumsy accident."  
>"Oh I'm so sorry Hermione. We did come here by the way, we thought Madame Pomfrey would let us stay because we assumed you'd be on your own all night and we didn't want you waking up to an empty room'.<br>"What do you mean, sorry? I don't understand."  
>"Well we came, like I said, but Pomfrey told us to come back in the morning, you already had a visitor."<br>"What time was this?"  
>"I dunno…about midnight I guess. We left for Hogsmeade without you 'coz we assumed you'd forgotten to finish an assignment or something. Then when we got back and none of the girls had seen you, we got worried and went looking for you." Ron replied, his hand picking idly at the flowers Harry had brought her.<br>"Yeah," continued Harry, "but luckily we ran into Pansy Parkinson in the hallway and she told us you had fallen."  
>"Ah, okay…" Hermione murmured, her mind now elsewhere, almost drunk with this new information; he had stayed with her until at least midnight.<br>_Then where was he now?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Draco was lying on his bed, staring at the dark ceiling. It was completely empty in both the dormitory and in the Slytherin common room as all the other students were in classes which Draco had not been able to bring himself to attend. Pansy had been asking after him, he had heard her outside the door, asking practically every boy that passed where he was. He found his stomach tighten with a subconscious wave of annoyance, almost to the point of anger. Why would she not just leave him alone?

He had assured Goyle that his life would not be worth living if he let Pansy know where he was. "Deny any knowledge of my whereabouts, of my very existence even, or things will be rather uncomfortable for you" he had warned, and when he thought about it now, he had never sounded more like his father. This realisation sent a pang of almost unbearable heat across his stomach and chest; after all, it was his father's attitude which was the building block of every reason why he and Hermione could never work. He knew he shouldn't let his family dictate every detail of his life, but the pull he felt towards them was almost as strong, and just as illogical, as the one which existed between him and Hermione.

He was startled, and jolted upright, by a sudden rapping on the wooden door of the dormitory. Oh God, not Pansy, he thought, before realising that she would be in the class he was supposed to be in right now. He stood up and moved towards the door to look through the one-way spy hole to see who it was. When he did so, he rapidly wished he hadn't. She was stood there, wearing a casual floral dress and white sandals on her slender feet. Her thick brown hair fell across one shoulder and stayed there so obediently that, had she been any other girl, he would have been sure it were the product of hours of attention. She lifted her head, her eyebrow slightly cocked in trademark Granger style, something which sent a smile tugging at the corners of Draco's lips. Although she had very little make-up on, just a hint of black mascara thinly spread over her long eyelashes. Yes, there was no denying it; Hermione Granger was beautiful.  
>This was the precise reason why Draco did not open the door; did not even call through the door to her. Without realising he was doing it, he pressed his whole body up against the door as though he were trying to break through it in order to be with her. He stayed silent and still, even as she knocked, louder and ever more insistently; every knock sending a bittersweet vibration over his body.<p>

"Draco?" she called, and at the sound of her voice, his hand shot to the door handle and he gripped it, hard. He stopped himself, just, from opening the door there and then so that he could feel the warmth of her body and just speak to her again. Instead he remained rooted to the spot, leaning his head forwards so that his forehead was pressed against the cold wood.

The curve of the spy glass made her seem so close to him that he imagined that there were no door between them; that it was not the door he could feel his head resting against, but that they were stood there, forehead to forehead, his breath dancing around with hers in that almost non-existent space between them. Instead he watched as she backed away from the door, and opened her bag. She took out a piece of paper and a pen and leaned on the wall as she wrote. She folded it up, pushed it under the door and turned around. He stood there, still gripping the door handle as she walked away from him, feelings of regret already bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

He turned around once she had gone from his sight, so that his back was against the door and slid down it until he was sat down on the carpet. He reached out and picked up the folded paper which she had pushed under the door. As he unfolded it he felt an overwhelming need to cry, and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping.  
>He felt ashamed and stupid that he had reacted this way because she had only written two words in her swooping, curling hand: <em>'Thank you.'<em>

Hermione walked up the steps from the dungeons, pulling her cardigan from the bag which hung around her shoulders. As she pulled it up around her arms to protect them from the biting cold, she became angry at herself. She had believed that Draco cared about her. She had jumped to this outrageous conclusion based purely on a few insignificant moments, most of which had been blurred and distorted by the veil of pain which surrounded her head. He had taken her to the hospital wing; that was it. It was hardly a declaration from the rooftops of his undying love for her and besides, once he had done so he had left her and then, it seemed, disappeared. Or had he deliberately hidden himself from her, she thought, but the latter explanation still hurt too much for her to contemplate further.

Although she spent the entire walk back to the Gryffindor common room reminding herself of every harsh word he'd said to her, reminding herself how little evidence she had that he cared at all, she still couldn't shake one particular question and, she thought, it's funny how when you want to believe something, you place the burden of proof not on yourself, but on those trying to convince you otherwise. Yes, this question would not leave her alone until she knew the answer to it.  
><em>Why had he still been sat with her at midnight, at least 3 hours since she had fallen?<em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Hermione woke the next morning and almost immediately felt terrible. It was not her head, although every now and then a sharp flash of pain would strike where she had hit her head two days ago, but her heart which was the source of today's pain. She felt as though she were breaking in two, the war that was going on inside her between her head and her heart was surely being fought using her already-fragile heart as a battleground. She needed him and that scared her primarily because she couldn't explain it; and Hermione was not in the habit of having no rational explanation for things. He had avoided her ever since it happened, she was sure of it. He was not in the Great Hall during the evening meal time, he was not in the Potions class they usually shared and every time she had asked after him, nobody seemed to have any idea at all where he was.

_Oh, how the tables have turned_, she thought to herself, remembering all the times he had accosted her in the corridors, trying to force a conversation she had hated the very thought of. She would give anything to go back now and to hear him out, to tell him everything she felt, no matter how much that scared her. In fact, the knock her head had received seemed to shaken all of that fear out of her, she was no longer scared of what Draco felt in return, she was no longer scared of what Harry or Ron would think and, perhaps most importantly of all, she was no longer scared of everything that she felt inside. She loved Draco Malfoy, and she couldn't imagine her life without him.

"She keeps asking after you, Draco. Honestly, I don't know what you've done to her this time, but she doesn't seem like she's going to give up any time soon," said Pansy without even looking up from the notes she was writing up for Draco from the classes he had missed.  
>"I don't think I've done anything this time, she's probably just wanting to thank us for not leaving her to freeze to death the other night,' he replied absentmindedly, trying to appear completely unconcerned; but the truth was that every mention of her name sent a dagger through his heart which made him want to run to her and tell her how much he loved her, how much he had loved her for so long now he couldn't even remember a time when she hadn't been on his mind.<br>"Oh I don't know, she seemed quite upset with you the last couple of times she came around here. Did you call her a mudblood again or something," she said and as she did so, a smirk crept across her face which sent Draco's mind into a flurry of anger.  
>"No I did not. Will you just shut up for two minutes, especially as it's none of your business," he shouted, in a voice which was so loud and twisted that it almost scared even himself. At this, Pansy dropped the pen from her hand, stood up and made to leave the common room for the girls' dormitory. The anger suddenly drained from him and he ran over to her, placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry, Pans. I guess I'm still feeling a bit tired. I'm sorry," he moved his arm around so that he held her in a kind of half-hug. He squeezed her shoulders, only for a moment, but long enough to put that look he hated back into her eyes; that look which reminded him that she had, at least to some extent, some of the same feelings he felt so strongly for Hermione and, therefore, she must feel some of the pain he felt just as strongly too. Being reminded of this made him feel, yet again, so much regret and remorse that he had inflicted all this upon her, that he immediately removed his hand and turned, so that he didn't have to look into her eyes any longer.<br>She must not have noticed the abruptness with which he removed his hand because she sat back down and continued writing, now looking quite content again. Despite his success in placating her, he felt his head spinning out of control and felt his ability to hold himself together rapidly slipping away until he couldn't handle it anymore.  
>"Pans, I just remembered that I forgot to go and hand that assignment in to Snape the other day," his voice sounded choked, almost hoarse, "you know how he is, I'd best go and take it to him now. I'll be back soon."<br>Before he had even finished the sentence he had made his way to the door, and Pansy only managed to get out the word 'okay' as he was already shutting the door behind him. He ran along the corridor, which was always empty around this time in the evening, his hair blowing right backwards allowing the cool air to cascade over his entire face, a welcome coolness which seemed to help the mess of emotions in his head. He continued to run, although he didn't know where he was going. As he ran, he found himself whispering her name to himself, as though his words could conjure her to him.  
><em>Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.<br>_How could he go on like this? How could he avoid her for his whole life? The prospect already, after only mere days, seemed unbearable, like the most painful brand of torture. He needed her so much. He loved his family; this was one of the reasons why he knew a relationship with Hermione could never happen. They would hate her, especially his father. In addition to this, he had to protect her. Some may accuse him of being a mummy's boy, and he'd never deny that he loved her more than anyone else, but that love for her didn't stop him from seeing the blindingly obvious – that she and his father had been raising him from birth to follow in Lucius' footsteps. He could not expose her to that world.

It was then that he decided that the best solution, indeed the only solution, was to go to the only place where he could think about her, remember her, without the accusations and interference of Pansy, without the disapproval of his family. In this place he could relive those precious moments of closeness with her, and be alone in these precious thoughts.  
>And so, he ran to the room of requirement, closed the door behind him and locked out the rest of the world.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Hermione walked down the corridor towards Professor McGonogall's office to speak to her regarding her timetable for next year. If she hurried, she could probably catch her before she left to teach the first year class she always taught at 2 o' clock, even though the professor was not expecting her. She strode down the corridor as fast as she could, dodging slow moving groups of friends who reminded her suddenly that she had spent so much time chasing around looking for Draco that she had not seen Ron or Harry in several days now. She opened the door which led to McGonogall's office and the difference between the noise and the chaos of people in the main corridors and the silence and emptiness in this one was so striking that she found herself lingering by the door, motionless, for several minutes before she actually walked down to the professor's office.  
>She reached the room she was looking for, but could not hear any noise coming from inside. Tentatively, she pushed the door with an outstretched hand, and it drifted open as she did so, but revealed an empty, silent room.<p>

She moved towards the professor's desk, gazing around at the number of books that she either loved or had on her 'to-read' list. She came to the large desk in the middle of the room, which was a shiny white marble one, with a high backed chair that had a frame of a similar material, but which had the addition of a block of padding on both the seat and most of the back panel of the chair. There was a pile of manila folders, and papers stacked upon the desk, which Hermione rooted through, having decided to leave a message outlining the problems she was having with timetable clashes between her various classes. She pulled all the folders aside, looking for a scrap of paper to write on, and came across a small square of paper which was exactly what she was looking for.  
>However, when she went to pull it out from under a pile of papers, she found that a few pages beneath it came with it, and she realised that it was a note from another student, attached to an essay they must have left for her on her desk. She glanced at the note out of pure curiosity, only for what she saw to send a sharp pang of pain sear across her chest, and she felt her heart jump so far up into her throat that it could have been touching her tonsils. The heavy, spiky handwriting was one she recognised almost instantaneously. She read the note through just to be sure, reading it aloud but in a quiet, choked, murmur. 'Dear Professor McGonogall,' it read, 'Sorry that this essay is late; I was with a friend in the hospital wing the night before it was due in and so failed to complete it on time. It won't happen again. D. Malfoy.'<p>

She set the papers down, her eyes welling up against her own wishes. Friend he had called her. Not fellow pupil, not some girl. He had called her his friend.  
>Of course, she was being silly, he was probably only saying that to bolster the credibility of his excuse by also adding heroism to the reason he had not done his homework; that was Malfoy all over.<br>Even so, she found herself crying, and then becoming angry; angry at herself for being so childish, angry at the world for making her care at all what Draco Malfoy thought of her. She gathered her things in her arms, forgetting completely about the message she needed to leave and ran down the corridor, tears building and slipping from the corners of her eyes, falling faster than she could flick them away with her fingers. She stopped running abruptly, as a door caught her eye and stopped her in her tracks. She touched the handle of the door softly, tracing the curves of the cold metal. _The room of requirement_; where this whole mess had started, at least in the sense that it was the first time their feelings had been openly acknowledged as being, well, not just those of two mere acquaintances.

She grasped the handle tighter, pulled it down whilst inhaling a deep gust of breath, and pushed it open slowly. 

Draco sat in the large, heavily-cushioned armchair in the corner of the room of requirement with his legs tucked up onto the seat of the chair, so that they were almost underneath him completely. He held a book in his hand, and a pen and notepad in the other. He had found that here was the only place he could be where he could concentrate on his essays, which he was certain was down to Hermione's voice in his head constantly, shouting at him whenever he lost focus.  
>He was deep in thought, writing notes for the essay he was preparing for when the sudden creak of the door made him stop everything and snap his head up in the direction of the door.<br>And then she walked in, and the way the sun fell on her face, he could have sworn she was an angel. The pale light on her face, the slow rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed; she took his breath away, right down to the slightest movements she made.

She couldn't see him, he realised, due to the angle his chair was placed in relation to the door.  
>'Granger,' he asked, as though he didn't know her from her scent alone.<br>Her head whirled around, and a small gasp escaped from her lips which had formed a small 'o'.

'What are you doing here?" She held her head higher than was natural, in that way she always did when she was trying to maintain her composure. Draco was almost sure it was because she felt reassured by looking down her nose at people.  
>"I...I could ask you the same question," he said, also trying to play the cold shoulder game she was attempting, "In fact, I was here first."<br>She looked down, her eyes suddenly overcast and he realised that this was not the fairytale answer she wanted. He had hurt her; again.  
>He found his legs suddenly not under his own control; they were walking towards her and now he was so close to her that he could feel every whisper of her breath along his collar bone. He touched the underside of her chin with the ends of his fingers, and she opened her mouth as though to object, but closed it again before any words came out. He lifted her chin so that she was forced to look at him, and even as he did so he felt a pang of desire surge through his body. Her eyes finally settled on his, and the connection between them; the lust and the need for each other, hung heavy in the silence between them, occupying also the empty but surmountable distance between their lips.<p>

"You're here because I wanted you here," he breathed, so quietly that he was unsure that he'd even spoken, "But more than that, the room of requirement sent you to me, because it knows what we've both been denying for too long now."  
>"And what's that," she asked, her brow furrowed into a subtle frown and her voice almost as quiet as his.<br>"That we need each other Hermione. I've needed you for longer than I've known I was missing you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione's heart jumped up, causing her to catch her breath for a moment. The sound came out almost like a gasp. Draco's eyes were locked on her, and he was standing so close to her that she could feel every beat of his heart as though it were her own, could sense every breath that he took as though her own lungs were breathing them.  
>"You...you need me?" She just about managed to articulate the words, but even so they caught in her throat and left her lips sounding almost pained.<br>"I do. I can't deny it anymore, and I wish you wouldn't either. I want to call you mine for the whole world to hear, Granger."  
>"I want all that too," she said, but as she did so her eyes turned towards the ground and her head tilted so far downwards that his hand, which had rested underneath her chin, was forced to fall away.<br>"I sense a but here somewhere..." he said to break the silence she had made.  
>"It's just...it's just not as simple as you're pretending it is."<p>

"I don't see what complications there could possibly be."  
>"Ron, Harry –"<p>

"Irrelevant."

"Your father, your mother -"  
>"Irrelevant."<br>"Your parents hate muggle-borns, Draco."  
>"I. Don't. Care. I love you, no one else matters to me. Just you."<p>

"Draco?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

When are you going to kiss me?"  
>With that, his head, his heart and his body seemed, at long last, to be in sync with each other. He wasted no time in re-enacting the scene he had pictured in his mind for so long now. He wrapped his arms around the narrow small of her back, gripping tight as he lifted her up and onto the desk against the back wall. She wrapped her legs around him then, her feet meeting each other behind his back.<br>Her hands frantically held on to him, grasping for his skin, for his hair, for his shirt, and held him to her. And yet, despite the frantic, sexual atmosphere they had created, the kiss that followed was as soft and as tender as it had been longed for. Her rose-pink lips, soft and smooth, pressed against him and for those few moments his body flooded with overwhelming warmth and he felt every spark of electricity that passed between them. When their lips parted again, it was only for the time it took for her to smile sheepishly at him, her beautiful face flushed a deep shade of pink, and then their lips were touching again. This time, the kiss was hurried, their lips pushed so hard together that Draco's lips were aching already; but it was the best kind of ache. He let his hands explore her, roaming over her hips, swooping down the valleys of her waist, running his shaking hands through her hair which felt as soft as silk. Her head tilted back sharply, and her tongue was flicking across his lips, causing them to part, letting her tongue swirl and stroke around his own. Her body was flat against his now; their bodies pressing so hard against each other it was as though they were trying to break through the very clothes they were wearing.

The heat of her breath, the urgency with which they were drinking in each other had made Draco's head spin, and his legs feel unsteady underneath him. Barely able to maintain a normal breathing pattern, he held her face tenderly between his hands. Then, she slowly pulled her mouth away from his, after what had seemed like hours of blissful kissing; her mouth was slowly overcome by a subtle smile, she leaned forward again, but this time left an irresistible trail of three kisses from the edge of his jaw, down his neck and landing on his collar bone.  
>She smiled again as she said, "I have to go now," and turned to walk out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.<p>

It had happened. She had kissed Draco Malfoy, and now she felt as though she were floating, giddy with the joy that comes with having a new lover. His lips had tasted sweeter than she had ever imagined they could be, and warmer than she had thought, too. He had held her to him so passionately that she could still feel the area where his hand had been tingling with his presence.  
>She practically skipped into her next lesson, sat down in her usual place next to Harry, chirpily asking how he was.<br>"What's got into you then, Hermione?"  
>"Oh, nothing," she said, looking down at the table to prevent him from seeing the smirk which had unfolded on her lips.<br>"Alright... well me and Ron were thinking of going into Hogsmeade later if you wanna come? Ginny and Lavender might be going too if you were worried about being the only girl."  
>"Oh no, it's not that. It's just; I'm kind of busy tonight; seeing a friend." She knew she shouldn't have said that last bit the second it left her lips. She should have said she had work to do, should have said she was tired, or had lots of books she wanted to read. She should have said anything except that.<br>"Oh..." Harry started, with a look on his face that was somewhere between confusion and deflation, "which friend?"  
>"Is it so startling to you that I should actually have a friend that I didn't find through you, Harry?"<br>"Well no, I was only asking."  
>"Well I don't see how it's any of your business."<br>Immediately she felt bad; it was not his fault and she shouldn't take it out on him. Apart from the fact she was being a bad friend, acting so aggressively would make people suspicious, and she wasn't sure when, how or if she was ever going to tell anyone about her and Draco. _Her and Draco_, she repeated in her head, it all sounded like something in a dream; a really odd dream.

She left. She ran away. He couldn't believe what had just happened, for more than one reason. He couldn't believe he had kissed her, couldn't believe he had held her in his arms, couldn't believe he had touched her so intimately, and that she had let him. But more than anything else, he couldn't believe that having done all this, she had run out the door and left him there.  
>But his joy outweighed his annoyance by far, for now at least. For as long as he could taste the sweetness of her lips on his, feel her tongue dancing with his, he would be as happy as any man could be.<br>He picked up his bag after half an hour of sitting in the armchair to compose himself or at least to try to, and left the room behind, turning round only once to try and memorise the scene and burn it onto his brain; although he was sure he would never forget it anyway.

The corridor was cold and empty when he left, and when he looked at his watch he realised why; it was half past 5, so everybody would be in the middle of their last lessons of the day.  
>He walked back to the Slytherin common room with snatches of memories of the kiss replaying in his head on a loop, making his breathing heavier with every step. He missed her already and that was pathetic; <em>but he didn't care<em>.  
>When he made it to the common room, Pansy was sat on the sofa with Crabbe and Blaise laughing about some stupid thing probably; but still, <em>he didn't care<em>.  
>"What's so funny?" he demanded, putting on his usual angry voice so as not to raise suspicion.<br>"Oh, you should have been there Draco! It was so funny." Pansy stood up and moved over to where he was stood in the door way.  
>"Why, what's happened?"<br>"Well Crabbe and I were walking down the corridor and we bumped into Granger," she begun, but already Draco felt his jaw tense, and his teeth clench together, "and Crabbe used a charm to throw all the books she was carrying onto the floor; she went absolutely mental at that. But that wasn't the best bit, when she went to pick them up again, she slipped and a load of love letters she'd written fell out of her pocket, it's just a shame she hadn't addressed them to anyone. But seriously, she's normally pathetic but today's performance took the biscuit!"  
>Draco grabbed her by the arm, not softly either, and put his face very close to hers.<br>"You will leave her alone," he whispered, so fiercely that he sounded as though he was growling rather than speaking, "you will leave her alone or I won't be responsible for my actions, Pansy. Do you understand?"  
>She wriggled free, trying to look defiant but it was clear to see the hurt welling in her eyes, and he instantly felt sorry that he had had to do it to her so publicly.<br>He turned without another word and made his way back to his room. Before he could reach the door, Crabbe pulled him round by his arm, looked around conspiratorially to check that no one would overhear, before asking Draco if there was something going on between he and Hermione.  
>"Would it be any of your business if there<em> were<em> something going on?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione woke up the next day fairly early; before the birds had started singing even. She pulled her legs over the side of the bed and slipped a thick cardigan over her head and slipped a pair of her slippers onto her feet. As she was leaning down to pull them on, a small square of paper caught her eye half under and half sticking out from under the door of her room.  
>She ran over like a child runs to their presents on Christmas day and opened it up just as speedily. It was <em>that<em> handwriting again. _Meet me in the RoR at ten; I'll be waiting_.  
>A smile swelled over her lips and she found the anticipation and excitement building in her stomach again.<br>She looked at the clock on her bedside table; five o clock. 5 hours to go; she should really get some more sleep but now she wouldn't be able to drop off now.

Five hours later she was holding the handle to the room of requirement in her hand. _Don't open it too quickly Hermione, don't seem too eager. _  
>When she opened the door, she couldn't see him anywhere. She knew she wasn't early, she had checked her watch just before she got to the room. She let the door slam shut behind her and moved forwards towards the window as she did so.<br>Suddenly, two arms were clamped around her waist, slotted tightly around her stomach. Then, there was hot breathing against her neck, a feeling which sent a warm tingling sensation down her whole body, coursing through her spine. The feeling intensified as the breathing turned into kisses and one of the hands slid upwards, settling on her cheek. She was out of breath by the time he stopped kissing her neck and spun her round to face him.  
>"I missed you," he breathed into her ear.<br>"It's been less than 24 hours, Draco," she replied through laughter and giggling.  
>"Still too long," he said, "I want to be with you all the time." He drew her closer, their foreheads touching, closed his eyes and drank in her scent. She had put on perfume he noticed; one which smelled like rose petals, with the slight heady smell of ginger or something similar thrown in. Whatever it was, he liked it; a lot.<br>He looked into her eyes and said, "I'm so sorry about what Crabbe and Pansy did to you the other day, they won't do it again; I promise."  
>She looked up at him from beneath hooded eyelids, which suddenly looked sad.<br>"It's okay, really. It's not like I'm not used to it." A heavy sigh escaped his mouth, and that statement sent waves of sadness and regret throughout him.  
>"It's not okay. I never want you to get hurt again. I won't let it happen anymore." He kissed her head and held her as close to his body as he could.<br>She broke from his grasp and whispered, "You don't know how long I've wished for you to say that to me."  
>"And you don't know how long I've wanted to say it to you."<br>Their lips met again, sweetly meeting; passionate yet not lustful, one of those rare moments in time where everything seems to just _work_, and nothing else seems to matter but the moment, and the people in it.  
>"How are we going to tell people?" she breathed against the skin of his chest which was exposed by his slightly open shirt.<br>"I wish I knew. It's going to be difficult but...I don't think we can put off telling them forever."  
>"I agree," she sighed, knowing that the task that faced them was going to painful, and one which could break them apart before they had barely been together at all.<p>

"Hey, Hermione?"  
>"Yes, Draco?"<br>"Isn't it the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff quidditch match tonight?"  
>"Yeah it is I think, why do you ask?"<br>"Well I just thought, since your dormitory will be empty we could be together somewhere that isn't this room" he chuckled, idly touching her cheek as he spoke.  
>"Sounds like a plan" she smiled back, and pressed her cheek against his chest as his arms held her even tighter.<br>They left the room seperately, so as not to arouse suspicion, having agreed that they would meet at the Gryffindor dormitories in ten minutes. Hermione left first, swinging her coat over her shoulders as she opened the door to leave. All of a sudden she was stopped in her tracks by a tight grip around both her shoulders. She tried to turn around but he wouldn't allow her to move her body; instead, he placed his lips so that they brushed her ear and whispered, _I miss you already_.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Hermione practically ran along the corridor back to the Gryffindor dormitories. She was watching the flood of people coming from the common room doors and felt the anticipation grow in her chest. She finally managed to dodge between the crowds and reach her bed in the dormitory. She threw her bag onto the floor, pulled off her scarf and sat down on her bed. It was then that everything began to sink in. Was she really doing this and with Draco Malfoy of all people? She must be mad she thought as the silence of the room washed over her. A wave of dread flooded through her stomach, making her breath catch in her throat. She didn't understand herself. For the first time in her life she was utterly lost and didn't have a clue what it was she wanted.

People had told her for most of her life that she was smart, that she was sensible, that she was _bright_. For once in her life she wanted to be exciting, to be adventurous, and to be free. She wanted to surprise everyone and make them see that she was not defined by her brains alone, that she was capable of trusting her heart as well as her head.

Having calmed herself down, she ran to her wardrobe. She wanted to change; not to dress up for him but to give the impression that she had been doing something other than sitting around waiting for him. She pulled out a simple blue dress which had long, sheer sleeves and pulled it over her head, tugging it down and into place. She looked at herself in the mirror as she pulled a brush through her hair. Do I look natural, she wondered. She wasn't sure but by this point, she didn't really care as the thrill and excitement had built up so that she could not help the smile from taking over her face. The sound of heavy footsteps sent a wave of anticipation through her body and she ran towards her door.

Pulling the door open she imagined in her head what she would see; his shiny blond hair, his arms which were both firm and soft all at once, his eyes which looked at her as though she were the only person he had ever seen. She saw none of this, however.

"Ron!" she half breathed, half squealed. She knew the moment it had come out of her mouth that she definitely had not sounded natural. Even Ron would know there was something up.

"Hermione, I came looking for you when you didn't show up. Harry said you must be ill but you look gre- I mean… I mean you look…"

"I'm fine Ron, really," she cut him off abruptly as she couldn't bear to hear him stumbling and stuttering through the rest of the sentence. She was pleading with him inside to leave, to get the message without her spelling it out for the first time in his life. He didn't leave the room though; instead he walked shyly over to her and, while looking at his feet the whole time, told her what he had told her every week nearly for the past 3 months.

"Hermione, I know you've been busy and I know that you said you didn't want to…to, well, ruin our friendship but I've been thinking and I really don't think it would ruin anything. Us, I mean."

"Ron, please…"

"No, Hermione, just listen for a sec. I'm sorry, I know it's hard for you because I'm probably not the guy you had in your head when you thought of who you would end up with but, I think you like me. I think you don't want to admit it because you're embarrassed but you do…"

"Ron, no, please don't say this. It's… it's…" She couldn't finish the sentence and she suddenly felt like she couldn't even stand. This had to be a dream, didn't it? It wasn't though, she realised and she suddenly felt so overwhelmed. So much had happened in the last few weeks, it was like a lifetime of emotion had forced itself into a few dizzying hours and even when she finally sat down on her bed she felt as though it were a strain to sit upright.

Ron sat down next to her and touched her chin with is index finger, moving it gently so that she faced him. It didn't feel right, she knew instantly, but she was numb. Even as she sensed his body tip forwards, closer to her, she could not make herself do anything. To hurt Ron would be to hurt herself; she may feel frustrated with him right now for putting her in this position, but she did love him; just not enough.

She started to tell him this but he did not let her get past those three words. The three words she was already regretting putting out there, because he didn't understand. Or maybe he didn't want to understand, she was not sure.

Either way, he was kissing her. It all happened so fast and yet so slowly. It was one of those moments which truly happens to you, as though it were not your life but rather a film you are watching, and you scream and scream at the characters because you cnt believe what a mess they've gotten themselves into.

She finally pulled back, although not abruptly, and saw, to her own dismay, that his eyes were filled with hope. She scrambled for but could not find any words to say to him. Instead she found herself summarising her entire day, her week in fact.

_It's just too hard._


End file.
